


Flung Out of Space

by Dinosauntor



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Kara is shy and unaware of the glories of being gay, Lena shows her why she doesn't need a man, SuperCorp, hahaha puns, you could call this a Christmas 'Carol'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinosauntor/pseuds/Dinosauntor
Summary: “I don’t love you Michael. I don’t love you, and I’m not sure I ever will.”When he leaves, she lets out a muffled scream. A mixture of relief and pent-up annoyance, it takes her several deep breaths to calm down and by then she’s moved across the room to the phone, the receiver magically appearing in her hands.“Hello?” The voice on the other end is just as sultry as she remembers.“Hi, Lena. It’s me, Kara Danvers? From the store.”---Kara feels absolutely trapped. At her job, with her boyfriend, living in a tiny flat, she's in desperate need of a change of pace.Enter Lena Luthor, a mysteriously beautiful woman with perfect bone structure and a secret that just might be exactly what Kara needs.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 312





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished reading Carol and you can bet I fancast Kara and Lena the entire time. I saw the movie a while back so it's a mix of the book and the film, with Lena being the sexy mysterious teacher to Kara's naive, middle-class soul.
> 
> It's also an excuse for smut.

The lunch hour at Frankenberg’s isn’t even at peak time and already Kara can’t find a seat. Her pile of mashed potatoes is starting to slide around the plate and the gravy is turning viscous as she slips onto a free bench, her elbows touching the people next to her. With the “Welcome to Frankenberg” pamphlet propped against her water cup, she starts to eat, shoveling the food in her mouth as she reads. 

_“The typical Frankenberg employee will be eligible for 15 paid vacation days and 15 unpaid vacation days. Any additional time off must be approved by the immediate superior.”_

Swallowing down a long groan, Kara glares at her plate. She only took this entry level job because she needed to pay the bills; Michael said he was in the process of working something out for her but she didn’t think it would happen and she was losing hope as the stretches between gigs grew longer and longer. Apparently there wasn’t too much need for an amateur photographer who had never apprenticed.

“10 minutes until the next peak traffic!”

With a sigh, she shuffles back into the line leading to the sales floor, cramming the threadbare santa claus hat onto her head as the doors open. 

It’s absolute mayhem. People weaving through the crowd and calling out names, women opening pocketbooks and demanding to see doll after doll, searching for the perfect one to box up and put under the tree on Christmas morning.

As she bends down to fetch yet another box, her mind wanders, strangely, to Michael. The lovesick man who, while knowing she doesn’t love him, is desperately in love with her. ‘Man’ isn’t even the right word, more like ‘boy’. Poor boy.

 _At least he’s trying_ , she thinks morosely. _That’s more than you can say._

Their eyes meet at the same instant, Kara glancing up from the box she’s checking and the woman turning her head so she looks directly at Kara.

She’s tall and fair, her curvy figure reminding Kara of the pictures in the fashion magazines on the racks outside the store, graceful in the loose fur coat that she holds open with a hand at her waist. Her eyes are greyish green and bright like light or fire, and Kara feels as though she’s been blinded.

Someone is standing right in front of her and asking her a question and the sound comes to her like she’s underwater. Kara blinks, still caught by the woman’s eyes and unable to look away.

“Excuse me! I asked for the Betsy doll ages ago,” the person at the counter huffs again, and Kara wordlessly hands her the box in her hands. The beautiful woman is making her way towards her counter and Kara is finding it harder and harder to breathe, then suddenly the woman is standing a few feet away all raven-haired and green-eyed, a preoccupied expression on her face.

“You wouldn’t happen to have this valise, would you?” She holds up a cut-out from an expensive magazine and Kara swallows in the face of red lips and high cheekbones, striking against pale skin.

“It’s over here,” she says in a shy voice, suddenly thankful she took this miserable entry-level holiday job. Reaching into the display case, she sets it on the counter with hands that shake slightly.

“You’re giving me the one on display?” The woman smiles conspiringly and leans her forearms on the counter, pulling her gloves off finger by finger.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kara says faintly, her eyes never leaving the woman’s hands. 

There’s a brief pause and Kara feels as though she’s being sized up, then the woman nods and slaps her gloves down on the counter.

“All right. I’d like this. That’s COD.” She continues to examine Kara as she turns to print out the COD slip, her bright eyes raking up and down, and Kara feels silly in the drab uniform.

Pencil in hand, she swallows past the tightness in her throat and clears her throat. “Name?”

“Miss L. Luthor.” The quiet, slow voice ripples through her veins like water and she focuses on the pencil point. The name, address and town appear like magic, stamping itself in her memory forever.

“Will this get to New York before Christmas?”

“Yes, it’ll arrive on Monday.” If it doesn’t, Kara thinks, she’ll deliver it herself.

“Wonderful.” Something in the woman’s distinct voice makes her look up and Kara shivers at the intense look in her eyes. The startling green stare looking up from smoky eye shadow and strong, thick brows roots her to the spot and she remembers a story she was told as a child, of Cupid’s arrow and a true love’s kiss.

She wants to say something but she can’t make her lips move, something sweet and burning coats her throat.

“Thank you,” Miss Luthor says softly, then she’s swept into the crowd and Kara is left gaping like a fish, gasping as though she’s just run miles and miles.

It only takes a minute for Kara to notice but by then Miss Luthor has disappeared, leaving her gloves sitting on the counter. Knowing she isn’t allowed to leave the counter, Kara stuffs them deep in her pocket, relishing the feeling of their weight until her mid-afternoon break when she can run down to the first floor.

She buys a small parcel and, trying not to think about it too much, buys a card from the greeting card department. She stands for a while, ink threatening to drip onto the thick paper, thinking of what to write—”You are magnificent” or even “I love you”—finally writing “special salutations from Frankenberg’s.” She adds her number, 645-A, instead of her name, and sends it out in the post with the gloves before she can lose her nerve.

The address is shamefully easy for her to remember.

Michael calls around 9 that night, like usual, but it takes extra effort to pay attention to his words.

“Kara? Did you hear what I said?”

“I don’t want to go out tonight, I’m washing my hair,” she answers, staring at the receiver and seeing emerald eyes and red lips. She blinks and it’s gone, but Michael’s voice is still in her ear.

“I asked if you wanted to catch a film tomorrow,” Mike says, infinitely patient with her short attention span.

Usually when he calls she can at least pretend to pay attention, pretend to be excited about whatever day trip he’s planned. She’s faked enthusiasm (and faked being sick) so many times that she’s not sure her boyfriend even knows who she is.

“I’m really tired, Mike,” she says lamely, wishing he would hang up in annoyance. He’s only done so once, but it was almost a relief. “I think I’ll go to bed tonight and wash my hair tomorrow.”

There’s a pause, then Michael’s voice with a note of defeat in it.

“All right, Kara. I’ll see you soon. Don’t forget, we have dinner with my family next Sunday.”

She doesn’t bother to answer, just breathes once, deep, and places the phone back on the hook.

* * *

The next day is the Friday before Christmas, and the busiest one of the whole year. Halfway through the day and Kara already feels as though she might drop at any moment, but she continues to run behind the counter. She writes so many COD slips she wonders if the green is permanently stamped on the inside of her eyelids, but every time she writes the name in she thinks about her.

_Miss L. Luthor._

What if, instead of walking away without her gloves, Miss L. Luthor had leaned farther over the counter, her coat opening wider to accommodate for the glass? What if she had swirled her perfume around Kara and asked her out to dinner? What if she—

“MIss Danvers!”

“Yes, Mrs. Grant?” 

“Phone for you,” her supervisor says with an annoyed air, like she’s peeved that Kara had the nerve to receive a call.

“For me?”

“Did I stutter? Get over here.” Mrs. Grant snaps her fingers and Kara reaches for the phone.

 _“Is this Frankenberg employee 645-A?”_ _  
_

The voice on the other end is so filled with static she has to squat down in the small storage room, pressing the phone harder into her ear and tugging the wire.

“Yes, this is Kara. Hello? Could you speak up just a little, it’s rather loud here.”

A slow chuckle comes across the phone and Kara flushes, suddenly aware that it isn’t a disgruntled customer on the other end of the line.

 _“Well, this is interesting. It’s Miss Luthor. You helped me with a valise the other day? I don’t know if you remember.”_ _  
_

“Of course! Of course I remember,” Kara says a little too forcefully. “You forgot your gloves.”

 _“Yes, you’re such a dear for sending them,”_ Miss Luthor says. _“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this.”_

Kara swallows, pretending not to see Mrs. Grant motioning at her to hang up. “Your gloves?”

_“No, I was expecting…”_

“Oh.” Kara’s face falls. “You thought it was a man that sent you the card, didn’t you.”

Miss Luthor must sense her disappointment because there’s a pause, then the words that will change Kara’s life forever.

 _“I like it better that it was you._ _Since it’s Christmas, why don’t we meet for a cup of coffee? Do you have a lunch break over there?”_

“!2-1,” Kara finds herself saying. She’s never felt this excited or this nervous and fans her hand with a face, not wanting to ruin her minimal makeup.

_Coffee with Miss Luthor._

_“Perfect. I have some errands to run in your part of town tomorrow, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”_

She hangs up before Kara has a chance to agree, and she stands up on shaky legs, an entirely new person.

“Miss Danvers, if you don’t get over to the doll section right now and serve those customers…”

But Kara is already gone, her bones filled with a new energy. Her smile is so wide it might split her cheeks and she works at double time, not even caring when someone berates her for a certain doll not being in stock.

Before she knows it, it’s 11:55 the next day and she runs downstairs, ripping off the stupid hat and the name tag and throwing them into her locker. She should put them away neatly, but it really doesn’t matter to her anymore. Only one thing matters to her, and she practically runs to the lobby, her heart pounding in her chest from something more than exercise.

When she gets to the lobby, it’s full of people milling about and her eyes search the crowd. She can’t remember if Miss Luthor is tall or not, but she suspects not, and pushes her way across the lobby.

“Kara!”

Her body turns instinctively towards the voice and then she’s standing in front of her, flushed and breathless.

“Miss Luthor! You recognized me.” She’s quietly proud, that someone like her was enough for someone like Miss Luthor to remember, and she smiles to herself.

Miss Luthor pulls a face and wraps an elegant hand around Kara’s forearm. “Let’s get outside. I can’t hear a thing.”

The winter wind hits them and Kara sucks in a breath, surprised at its strength.

“Did you have a place in mind, Miss Luthor?” Kara turns her head to ask, her voice ripped away by the wind.

“Please, call me Lena. And yes, I do.” She eyes Kara with an unreadable expression and Kara swallows under the scrutiny.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she says with a nervous smile. “Lunch, I mean.”

Lena’s voice is low but Kara hangs on to every syllable. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Another block passes and Kara takes in the other woman’s outfit; knee-high suede boots, a long woolen coat and a silk blouse. Lena carries herself like a woman who’s used to attention, and Kara can’t look away from her, floundering for something to say that will make her seem interesting.

“You look amazing,” she blurts out, immediately regretting it.

But Lena just gives her a wide, genuine smile and thanks her, and they walk the remaining block in silence.

Once they’re both sitting down, outer layers on the booths next to them and drinks on the way, Lena goes back to inspecting her. Kara tries to act normally, as though she goes out for coffee all the time to fancy restaurants with gorgeous women that walk into her store, but she has the feeling that Lena can read her every thought so she preoccupies herself with the menu.

It turns out, it’s extremely difficult to ignore when someone as striking as Lena Luthor is staring at her, but Kara tries her damndest, burning the words ‘starter soups & salads’ into her brain.

Lena watches from across the table as the blonde woman stares at the menu. Kara’s expression is so intent that she might burn a hole through the paper and plastic with her eyes, and she smirks at the blonde’s painful shyness.

Then Kara looks up and her innocent, ocean-blue eyes bore into Lena’s, and she has the feeling that Kara doesn’t know how beautiful she really is.

“So,” the blonde starts nervously. “You got your gloves.”

“Yes.”

“And now we’re having coffee.”

“Irish coffee,” Lena corrects, smiling.

“Irish coffee. Isn’t it a little early for that?”

Lena winks at her and Kara is thankful that she’s already sitting down. “Nothing wrong with a little whiskey for lunch.”

“I have work later,” Kara says weakly, already knowing she’ll go along with whatever Lena says. Hoping against hope that the exquisite woman sitting in front of her won’t think she’s a doormat for following blindly.

“All the more reason, if you’re going back into that horrid store.”

“It _is_ horrid, isn’t it?” Kara agrees, starting to decompress. “I don’t know what made me take that job. It’s not even what I want to do with my life.”

“And what _do_ you want to do with your life?” Lena asks curiously.Shaking her head, Kara wraps her hands around the hot mug. “My family would prefer I do something academic,” she says vaguely, her eyes tracing the lipstick print Lena leaves on the rim.

“Who cares what they think? They can’t blame you for doing what you love,” Lena says bluntly, one hand fiddling with the ends of her perfectly curled hair. Her perfume wafts across the table and Kara swallows, trying to tear her eyes away from the elegant fingers that slide through the threads.

“I know they wouldn’t approve.”

“There’s lots of things people don’t approve of, Kara,” Lena says pointedly.

A strange hunger starts up in Kara’s gut and she busies herself with ordering appetizers before she can think too much about how Lena’s eyebrow arches up when she speaks.

She tries not to but she watches Lena all throughout lunch. Lena is equally unabashed to stare right back across the table, and somehow it isn’t awkward. It’s nothing like her dinners with Mike, where she feels as though he’s judging her every move. She doesn’t know quite how to put it, but even with her shabby clothes and her boyish build, everything Lena says sounds complementary and every glance she shoots Kara has a tinge of admiration.

“Do you live near the store?”

“No. I live downtown in a small flat.” Kara flushes, slightly embarrassed at her modest means. “It’s nothing fancy.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Which section?”

_Why is she asking this? Does she really care?_

“Out west. On Cordova.” She clears her throat, taking a too-large gulp of her coffee. “415, that’s home.”

Lena just gives her a small smile, like she’s forming an opinion, and Kara hopes she doesn’t look down on her. She doesn’t seem like the type, but appearances can be deceiving.

The idea disappears when Lena begins asking her about her childhood. She’s never had anyone, save Michael, this interested in her past—and she’s never been so eager to rise to the occasion. She tries to impress the brunette and glean tidbits of her own background in the process, but Lena is stubbornly mysterious, like a glamoured creature that she thinks only she can see.

The hour passes far too quickly. When one of them finally remembers to look at a clock, it’s quarter past, and Kara stands abruptly, her knee bumping the edge of the table.

“Oh, gosh, I have to get back,” she frets, anxious eyes flitting between Lena and the empty plates. Lena reaches out a hand and rests it on her knee, the warmth burning through Kara’s thin stockings like a furnace and sending zaps of electricity outward from her fingers.

“Careful, darling.”

“Mrs. Grant is going to kill me.” Unsure of what to do, Kara looks to Lena for help. She brought her bank card with her, but she suspects that this restaurant is far above her usual price range and she doesn’t know if offering to pay is expected of her.

“Don’t let me keep you.”

The way Lena says it makes her want to stay and she hesitates, frozen in the searchlight of her piercing green gaze.

"Thank you for lunch, Lena." The name is smooth on her tongue and she relishes the feeling, hating the seconds ticking down before she has to leave Lena's magnetic presence.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” Lena drawls, standing gracefully. Her perfume swirls around Kara and she feels a bit dizzy, then Lena’s lips are on her cheek and she can’t feel anything but the burn of red lips on her skin and the feather-light graze of Lena’s cheek against hers.

It’s only late that night as she’s getting into her pyjamas that she notices the napkin. She only sees it because she’s digging through her coat pockets thinking she’s lost a glove; it’s one of the cloth ones from the restaurant, with a telephone number written in lipstick across the front and a bold print of lips underneath.

Something presses her to trace the lips with a hesitant finger and she brings it closer and closer, recalling the happiness from earlier.

_She kissed my cheek._

_If I turned my head, would she have kissed me?_

_Did I want her to kiss me?_

The idea is frightening and exciting all at once, and Kara glances around like she’s been caught doing something illegal. Drawing down the blinds just in case, she sits at her small dinner table and lays her coat on it, inhaling the last of Lena’s expensive perfume. She tries to make it last, but all too soon it’s diluted from her eagerness and the disappointment sets in.

Should she call? Or perhaps Lena just meant for her to have her contact information, just in case. Maybe Lena gives everyone her number on a fancy cloth napkin with her lipstick on it.

Lifting the napkin to her lips, she imagines what it would be like to kiss the maker of the print, all warm and lavender-scented, and she’s shocked by the visceral reaction her body has, the way it jerks awake like a bear coming out of hibernation too early.

Heat boils in her stomach, trailing down to between her thighs, and her leg jerks, bumping against the table for a second time. She doesn’t even feel the bruise; this new sensation is so unfamiliar and violent that it scares her. She folds the napkin into her jacket with shaking hands and hurries to bed, her body humming with an undiscovered energy.

* * *

“That’s the last of it,” Michael groans, dropping the last box on her couch with a clatter.

“Careful with that!” Kara admonishes, hurrying to check if her equipment is damaged. When she asked him to help move her photography things, she thought he’d be more excited to spend time with her. She knows she gives him next to nothing in ways of affection, that she takes him for granted, but he still sticks around. Why, she has no idea, but it’s comforting to have someone to fall back on.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

Michael slumps onto the couch next to the box and spreads his legs. “So. We could go to the park, or the cinema, or even the zoo. I’ve been meaning to see the new panda exhibit, and I wanted to take my girl. I’ve missed you the last few days.”

“I wonder how they managed to get one overseas,” Kara says distractedly, still checking her camera. “They’re so rare.”

“We haven’t done anything together in weeks. Maybe you could come out to dinner with me and the men from my office?”

“I don’t really like the men from your office,” Kara wrinkles her nose. Satisfied with the camera, she pads to her bedroom to put on another sweater.

“Kara, what’s going on?” Michael follows her, a hand ruffling his hair in the way she called ‘cute’ once, a few months ago. “I feel like I never see you, and when I do, you’re a million miles away.”

“What do you want me to say, Mike? That I don’t give you enough?” Exasperated, Kara turns to face him, her arms stiff at her side. “We both know that. You make it pretty clear every time you come around that I don’t make enough time for you.”

“Why not? We’ve been together almost a year.” Michael reaches out a hand and rubs her shoulder, his face full of the wrong kind of concern.

Letting out a long breath, Kara collects herself. “Listen, Michael. I know what you want. I know that’s what my family wants for me. But I can’t give it to you. I’m sorry, I just—I can’t. Not now, maybe not ever.”

She does feel bad, simply because she’s known him for so long and grown as close as she could without giving up any part of herself, but the resigned look on his face convinces her that she’s doing the right thing and she delivers the final line, one that they both knew was coming.

“I don’t love you Michael. I don’t love you, and I’m not sure I ever will.”

He stands there, dejected, his hand falling from her shoulder. After a long pause, he sighs and rubs at his eyes.

“I know, Kara,” he says softly. “I guess I hoped you’d changed your mind.”

When he leaves, the sound of workboots and her rickety door closing behind him, she lets out a muffled scream into her hands. A mixture of relief and pent-up annoyance, it takes her several deep breaths to calm down and by then she’s moved across the room, the napkin appearing in her hands.

 _“Hello?”_ The voice on the other end is just as sultry as she remembers.

“Hi, Lena. It’s me, Kara Danvers? From the store.”

_“Yes, darling, I know. I recognize your voice.”_

Pushing down the spike of heat that materialises at those words, Kara sighs into the phone.

The concerned reaction is immediate. _“What’s wrong, has something happened?”_

“You could say that,” the blonde admits, resting her forehead against her hand. She feels more relaxed and still somehow keyed up at the sound of Lena’s voice and she bites her lip, wondering why she’s so nervous about a phone call to a friend.

“You wouldn’t happen to be free this weekend, would you? Just for a few hours? I need to clear my head and talk things out with someone.”

 _“Of course, Kara. I’d love to get to know you better.”_ Lena’s voice has an undertone that she doesn’t quite understand, but she sounds happy. _“I won’t be in town until late on Saturday, but I can pick you up the next morning?”_

“That would be—amazing,” Kara breathes, her annoyance at Michael evaporating at the prospect of seeing Lena again. Lena, with her elegant way of speaking and fancy clothes and beautiful expressions. “What time works best?”

 _“I’ll come by, say, 10 o’clock? We can have lunch at my place.”_ Lena is waiting for her response and Kara barely chokes it out around the band of excitement that’s fastened its way around her chest.

“I’ll be ready.”

_“Perfect. And Kara? I really am glad you called.”_


	2. Chapter 2

“So, this is the house. It’s a little lonely, but it’s nice.”

Trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor, Kara files into the Victorian-era mansion after Lena. 

“Nice?” she squeaks, her eyes landing on a grand piano. “It’s...astonishing.”  _ Like you. _

“Hm.” With a sad sort of chuckle, Lena bustles off down a hall. Kara keeps time with the rustling of the long, woolen coat in front of her. “It was a gift.”   


“A —oh. Oh. I’m so sorry,” Kara mumbles, her eyes on the tiled floor.

“Don’t be.” Lena waves a hand, pulling off her gloves and slapping them down on the counter. “He wasn’t much of a giver, and I’m better off this way. Especially with you here.” A warm, genuine smile breaks across her face and Kara smiles back, not wanting to pry any further.

Lena notices her gravitating towards the piano and nods, already getting things from cupboards.

“Do you play?”

“A little.” She sits down on the bench like it’s made of glass and might shatter with the slightest touch—that’s how she feels, fragile and breakable and see-through.

That’s how Lena makes her feel.

Trying to ignore the noises from the kitchen, her fingers hover above the ivory for a few moments before muscle memory kicks in. Her version of  _ Clair de Lune _ is slow and slightly haunting, and she gets so lost in the music she doesn’t notice the sounds cease from the other room or the quiet  _ clack _ of Lena’s heels.

As the piece comes to a close, she senses the other body in the room with her and suddenly it’s too much—her fingers on the keys, Lena’s breath in the doorway behind her. There isn’t enough air in the room and her clothes are a size too small, and she plays the final notes, her hands dropping into her lap.

“That was beautiful. Beautiful playing from a beautiful woman,” Lena says smoothly. 

A quick glance behind her shows the brunette leaning against the door frame, graceful curves and pale skin smiling at her. “I’m not very good,” Kara says, closing the cover and trying to hide the flush in her cheeks at the compliment. “You don’t have to be nice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lena laughs, heading back into the kitchen. “If you’re talented, you should be told. Come have lunch.”

It’s a small affair, egg salad and biscuits, and they sit at the table for a long time after, sipping brandy and talking about their lives.

Well, Kara talks about her life. Lena remains as mysterious as ever, but her eyes never leave Kara’s face and she compliments Kara a few more times, each time making the blonde smile wider and wider. They slowly gravitate to each other, chairs inching closer and closer as the conversation continues.

After a particularly bold remark about how a ‘woman like her must be destined for great things’, Kara takes a swallow of brandy and clears her throat.

“So. You live alone.”

It’s not really a question but Lena humors her, smiling over the rim of her glass. “I do.”   


“Why?”

Lena sets her glass down and Kara’s stomach sinks. She’s hoping that she didn’t just ruin everything, their friendship, this lunch date, by crossing the invisible line that Lena set that first day in the store, when the other woman opens her mouth.

“I was married, once. To a man who was...opinionated. Opinionated and vocal, the worst combination of the two. The valise was for him,” she adds casually, her fingers wrapping around her glass. Kara can’t look her in the eye, just nods, staring at her hands.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I thought I was happy. But times change. People change.”

Those magnetic green eyes flash again and Kara takes a deep breath, her voice small. Something has been building up, something she can’t quite understand and she feels slow and a bit stupid for having just realized it, but it has to do with Lena’s privacy and her lack of husband and something to do with her sitting in her kitchen.

“Why aren’t you together anymore?”

“We wanted different things, in a manner of speaking.” The corner of Lena’s mouth quirks up. “He wanted a nice house with children and a wife to come home to.”

Kara smiles tentatively. Their chairs can’t get any closer but her body leans forward of its own accord, hands gripping the seat. “What’s so wrong with that?” Her heart is beating a million times a minute and she worries that Lena can hear it but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, not when she’s sitting inches away from the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

The look Lena turns on her takes her breath away.

“I wanted the same things.”

There’s a beat as Kara processes this, the words bouncing around her brain, then her eyes widen and her lips part.

“Oh.”

Lena’s breath is hitting her neck, fast and heavy like she just ran up the stairs, and as the brunette leans forward Kara finally has the sense to snap her eyes shut.

The kiss only lasts a second and Lena pulls away too quickly for Kara’s liking, her green eyes searching the blonde’s face for some kind of reaction. Still shocked at the realization, the culmination of years of incomprehensible thoughts and urges, Kara’s mind simply blanks, her lips still parted. Everything she’s feeling is hitting her all at once, every nerve open and exposed and raw and waiting for  _ her _ . For Lena Luthor.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice is calm but Kara can read the anxiety in her slight frown, the quirk of an eyebrow as she starts to lean back. “I thought—”

Kara’s body roars to life, urging her to grab Lena and never let her go. One hand cups the pale skin at the back of her neck, the other going to Lena’s waist, and Lena lets out a surprised mewling sound that almost melts Kara’s brain until she chases the sound back down Lena’s throat.

Her lips are gentle but they burn like the sun, turning Kara’s body into a piece of kindling. Somehow Lena is on her lap, her legs around Kara’s waist, and then the brunette is  _ everywhere _ . Her hair falls around them, tickling Kara’s face and surrounding her with the heady scent of shampoo and lavender and  _ Lena, _ and Kara tilts her head back, deepening their kisses.

Lena’s hips have started to grind down, putting pressure on sensitive places that Kara didn’t know existed, and she lets out a broken whimper. Normally the sound would embarrass her, and so would the way the brunette smiles against her lips, but instead she feels the spirit of a challenge rising in her—she wants to make those sounds come from Lena.

Experimenting, she opens her mouth, welcoming Lena’s tongue in. It’s hot and heavy and warm and their breath mingles, and even as Kara’s hips surge upwards her hand presses the back of Lena’s head, pressing her closer, harder, eliminating the space between them. She’s rewarded by the brunette’s gasp and as Lena pulls back for air, she traps her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down playfully. 

The moan that Lena lets out makes spikes of heat rush to her crotch and Kara can’t deny it anymore. She’s never been this aroused by  _ anyone _ , and as she catches her breath, she looks up.

Lena’s eyes are hooded and dark with hunger, the pupils blown out until her irises are a ring of green, her lips slightly red. Her hair is falling in messy waves over her shoulders, tangled from Kara running her hands through it, and her shirt has slipped down to reveal just the top of her brassiere. It’s taunting and sexy and all too overwhelming, and Kara just stares, her chest heaving.

“Kara,” Lena says breathlessly, and she has to restrain herself from kissing her name of Lena’s lips, only because she sounds so serious. “Kara, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t—”

“No! No.” Kara rushes to reassure her friend—lover? Crush? What are they, anymore?— before Lena can finish her sentence. “I want this. I had no idea that—no idea that it could be like _ this. _ ”

“Are you sure?” Lena speaks slowly, as if giving her time to think, but her thighs tense against Kara’s waist and the blonde knows what her answer is.

Knew it before coming here, if she’s being honest with herself.

“Please,” she says simply, already hating the space between them. Even if Lena is trying to be a gentleman. Even if she looks like she’s making a difficult decision, trying to maintain some sort of control.

But she finally lets out a breath and nods, resting her forehead against Kara’s. “Okay. Okay, upstairs then.”

And Kara can’t stop herself from smiling, can’t stop herself from standing eagerly, nearly dumping Lena on the ground, and grabbing her hand. It’s a perfect fit, she marvels as Lena pulls her upstairs, and the excitement and the taboo of it all only accentuates the high she feels as Lena shoulders open an ornate wooden door, separating their hands to drop her coat over the back of a chair.

There’s something different about this version of Lena, barefoot and half-undressed and vulnerable, that makes Kara’s body catch on fire. If she was nervous downstairs in the kitchen, she certainly isn’t now. Licking her lips, she takes a step forward, her hands boldly wrapping around Lena’s waist. They move in a bizarre sort of tango until the backs of Lena’s legs hit the mattress and she gasps, and Kara’s willpower snaps.

A second later her body flattens Lena’s against the mattress and Lena’s shirt flies past her head hitting the floor somewhere behind her, and Kara can’t help it but she  _ stares. _

_ Who knew what all those fancy clothes were hiding? _

If it were anyone but Lena, she suspects, she would pause here, maybe compare her to Michael and try to find out what was missing this entire time. But it  _ is  _ Lena, and that’s why Kara doesn’t even spare her ex-boyfriend a thought.

The expanse of pale skin and the occasional freckle fills her view and she doesn’t hesitate, licking a hot line in the valley of Lena’s breasts. It’s salty and sweet and she tastes the slightly bitter tang of perfume, but it’s blown away by the intensity of Lena’s gasp, a sound that echoes in her ears as she draws circles with her tongue around her nipple, sucking gently on the bud.

When she raises her head, she’s greeted by a sight she won’t ever forget. Lena’s head is tipped back, her eyes closed in bliss and her mouth open, her tongue pressed against the backs of her perfect white teeth.

“I’ve never—with a woman, I mean—”   


Lena is quick to allay her fears, and even quicker to encourage.

“It’s okay. We can start slow. I can do you—”

“No. I want to know what you taste like,” Kara says in a low growl, making Lena shiver down to her core.

“Okay,” Lena says again. She doesn’t break eye contact as her legs spread, and she has the satisfaction of seeing Kara’s eyes widen. The idea that she will be Kara’s first sends electricity arcing through her body and goosebumps breaking out across her skin, the familiar pressure building in the pockets of her hip bones.

“Is there—is there anything you want me to do?” Kara asks breathlessly, her eyes flicking away from Lena’s clit long enough for the brunette to see the sun burning behind her eyes.

“I just want you.”

That, apparently, is the perfectly right thing to say. Kara pulls her own shirt up and over her head and only gives Lena half a second to appreciate her view— _ Dear god, she doesn’t have an ounce of body fat _ ——and then she slides down, positioning herself between Lena’s legs.

A playful smile ghosts her lips when she sees how wet Lena is, and she licks tentatively at the inside of her thighs, her breath hitting her glistening cunt. Her tongue gets closer and closer to its goal, and when her nose brushes Lena’s clit, the other woman lets out a small, high-pitched whimper.

“You like that?” Kara says, her rough voice commanding even from her position below Lena.

Lena nods, trying to catch her breath, when a sharp spike of pleasure stings the inside of her thigh. She looks down to see Kara, her teeth fastened on pale skin, and almost passes out from the sheer wave pleasure that hits her brain.

“I asked you a question.”

Blinking at the change in Kara’s demeanor, Lena gasps out her answer, her jaw clenching.

“Yes. Yes, I like it.”

“Good.” Kara grins, then begins with an unrelenting attack of pleasure that reboots Lena’s brain.

The second Kara plunges her tongue in, she’s met with new but instinctively familiar territory. She knows this, knows it because it’s the same parts as her own, the same parts that she touches on herself when she thinks of Lena alone in her bed.

She also knows she’s doing something right, because Lean’s thighs are slick with come and it’s getting all over her face in the best way.

From the way that Lena moans, squeezing Kara’s head with her thighs and tangling a hand in her blonde curls, forcing her deeper, Kara gets the hint. Her tongue keeps up its crazy rhythm until Lena is the one directing them, sloppy and irresistibly hot, and Kara is just hanging on for the ride. She’s about to slip a hand between her own legs when Lena unexpectedly pushes her head away, and she comes up for air, her face slick from the nose down and an adorably confused expression on her face.

“Lena?”

Lena’s chest is heaving and she twists around, nerveless fingers fumbling with a latch on her nightstand. “Just—one second.” 

Afraid she’s done something wrong, Kara sits up, her eyes roaming Lena’s back and following the arch of her spine. Every sign pointed to Lena’s enjoyment; her moans, the way her legs shook, her breathless  _ “More, Kara, please!”, _ but Kara shrinks away when Lena turns back around with something in her hands.

Lena raises herself to her knees on the mattress, effectively towering over the blonde. “Do you know what this is?” Her voice is soft and hoarse, her eyes dark with desire.

It’s hard for any higher thought to process through her brain when Lena is so close to her, naked and radiating heat and she can still taste her come on her lips, but Kara manages to shake her head.

“Can I show you?”

After a moment’s pause, Kara swallows and nods. The way Lena’s breasts are mere inches away from her face makes her want to bury herself in Lena’s cunt and grab them with her hands, but she holds herself still, trembling from the effort.

Lena bends over and Kara hears the clinking of metal, feels the cool leather slide against her hips, but it barely registers because Lena’s breasts are resting against her thighs and the back of her neck is exposed. She runs a hand through Lena’s hair and presses her lips to the skin that’s usually covered by hair or scarves or high collars, and is rewarded by the buck of Lena’s hips. “Patience,” Lena teases, tightening something around her hips. When she pulls away, Kara looks down, curious to see what she was doing.

The leather and the metal that she heard were part of a harness, and jutting through a ring right by her crotch is something that looks suspiciously like Michael. An exploratory poke reveals that it’s made out of rubber, and Kara’s eyes widen at the implications.

“Is this what you want?”

Lena nods, lying back and spreading her legs again. “As long as it’s what you want.”

Kara isn’t entirely sure what  _ this  _ is, but she knows that it feels right.   
  
The first few strokes are slow, tentative. Lena’s hands smooth over her back, her shoulder blades, scratching lightly at her scalp as she eases herself in. Lena is still so wet that she almost bottoms out on the first try, but she holds herself back, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort.

Finding none, Kara slowly starts up a pace. Her lips burn a path along Lena’s collarbone and up her throat, latching on and sucking at her pulse point. Her lips trap Lena’s and when the brunette bites down on her bottom lip, Kara suspects the wetness she feels down by her legs isn’t just from Lena. There’s a pressure building between her legs and she doesn’t know how much longer she can hold back, but thankfully Lena seems to read her mind.

“Kara, if you’re going to fuck me, fuck me properly.”

The words break some sort of seal and Kara, always eager to please, clicks into second gear. Her thrusts get deeper and deeper, harder and faster, and her breath puffs against Lena’s neck as she moves. Sweat glistens on her skin and Lena feels it forming on her back, and the air around them turns hot and heavy with the scent of salt and come and sex. Her nails scratch against Kara’s back and the blonde’s head raises, the sensation sending her barreling towards the edge.

“Oh god,  _ Lena, _ ” Kara says hoarsely, and her pants turn into moans.

“More,” the brunette begs, her legs wrapping around Kara’s waist and pulling her closer. “I need you inside me.” There’s no hint of shame or embarrassment and Kara briefly wonders how something like this could be illegal, but the thought vanishes from her mind as Lena’s nails dig in.

She’s going to love the marks they’re leaving on her skin.

“I’m so close,” Lena gasps, her body moving in sync with the blonde’s furious rhythm. “So close, Kara,  _ please— _ ”

Kara cuts her off with a deep kiss, rough and sweaty, teeth and tongues clashing as she keeps up her unrelenting pace.

“Kara, I can’t—I can’t hold on.”

For this, Kara knows enough, from dirty magazines or the 2 dollar tapes sold on the corner, to know what to say.

“Come for me, Lena,” she demands, and Lena’s tenuous control snaps.

Her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape at Kara’s order and she barely chokes out her name one last time as her body shudders, her core melting and washing out over Kara’s legs, the blonde’s voice in her ear. Kara’s sweat drips onto her chest and it makes it that much more intense, and as her body shakes she thinks she’s never orgasmed this long in her life.

As she drops back onto the mattress, the sheets sticking to her skin, her vision clears and she’s greeted by a blinding smile.

“Did you like that?”

Lena lets out an incredulous laugh, her hands still around Kara’s neck. What a question! Like asking her if the sun would rise the next day.

“You’re incredible,” she says in a hoarse voice instead of answering the question. Her hands go to Kara’s waist and rest on her hips. “Can I return the favor?”

For the first time since they came upstairs, Kara looks embarrassed. Her cheeks, just starting to lose their flush, turn pink and she can’t meet Lena’s eyes.

“You don’t need to,” she mumbles, staring at a spot on the pillow next to Lena’s head.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Propping herself up on an elbow, Lena traces a finger across Kara’s stomach. “I want to.”

“You don’t need to,” Kara says again, blue eyes blazing as she locks them onto the questioning green lying in front of her. She gives Lena a small shrug and an abashed smile. “I already came.” 

“When?” The conversation is absurd but it’s not awkward. Nothing is ever awkward with Kara, and Lena revels in the sensation.

“About a second after you did,” Kara admits, slowly sliding out. Lena gasps as she leaves her body, already missing her warmth, but a second later the harness hits the ground and Kara is back, her lips on Lena’s and her body pressing down. The kiss is slow and sweet and soft and Lena sighs as Kara rolls off her, lying on her side to face the adorable woman that’s taken over her heart.

There’s a long moment of silence as they look at each other, Kara’s eyes drinking in the sight of post-orgasm Lena, and then she smiles again.

“You wouldn’t want to, uh…”

Lena arches an eyebrow at the teasing tone. “Wouldn’t want to what, darling?” she asks cautiously.

“You wouldn’t want to do that again sometime, would you?”

Her answering smile stretches her cheeks and she leans forward, draping a hand over Kara’s side.

“I would love to.”


End file.
